Running Away

The hardest time of my life when growing up was when I was 11 years old. I'm sure puberty had a big part in my attitude, but at the same time my mother was pregnant with my sister, June. Mom was 40 years old and expecting her 5th child. Sandy had just gone away to a home for the mentally retarded (mentally challenged, these days). It was not an easy time for my family.
I felt as though my mother didn't like me at all. She didn't smile at me. She didn't joke around and it seemed as though I did nothing right. She seemed to be mad all the time.
One evening my parents went bowling. Actually, they were on a league and bowled once a week and practiced 2 other nights. I was all alone at home. It had been another bad day between my mom and I. I called my best friend, Debbie Wedes, and asked if I could stay with her. I told her I was running away and needed a place to stay. She was in. She didn't tell her folks because they would have ratted me out.
I packed a suitcase and walked the almost mile at night to Debbie's house. However, I didn't want my parents to worry when they came home and found me gone. I left a note telling them where I was.
I got to Debbie's and about an hour later the phone rang. Debbie's mom handed me the phone with a withering look. Oops. All I heard was 'we're coming to get you. Be outside waiting', or something to that affect.
The car pulled up in front of Debbie's house. I opened the door to get in and Daddy was driving - not Mom. Trouble. The drive was silent for a few minutes then Daddy asked me what I thought I was doing. I told him my side of the story, then he spoke. He said he couldn't believe that I could feel that way about my mother. She had been willing to give her life to bring me into this world. My mother took care of me every day. My mother would do whatever needed to be done to keep me safe. My mother loved me and I had better never forget it. He was amazed that I could feel the way I did. I was also told I had to apologize to my mom for worrying her.
I remember crying and apologizing, then going to my room.
As I grew older, my mother and I have become friends. Not only am I grateful that she brought me into the world, fed me and clothed me, I'm grateful for the times we laughed together. I'm grateful for the example she has set for me. I'm grateful that she wasn't afraid to be my mother and not my 'pal' when I was growing up. And I will be eternally grateful for my father backing my mother. There was no 'divide and conquer' there. They were a solid guiding force in my life and I pray that they love me half as much as I love them.